Wow. Hi. Yes, I am still in possession of all my faculties, though if you’d asked me yesterday I would have informed you politely that I had no idea who Erika was and could you please direct me to the nearest couch so I could take a nap? The reason why, in case you missed me on Twitter or Facebook, is we launched Offbeat Mama yesterday and it went so very well.
It’s really cool to see something you’ve worked on come to fruition. Like, back in July it was just an idea, and now it’s a verifiable entity. With posts. And comments. I think that’s the one-of-a-kind rush you get from launching a new website: You send it out into the world, and when you started getting responses it’s a very heady feeling.
That’s not to say I was feeling 100% awesome last night. No no. I had a headache that could have crushed a donkey and it stuck around all freaking day. I tried eating some M&M’s for the caffeine factor (and because they’re yummy) but to no avail. I’m avoiding drugs during pregnancy just because I enjoy playing it safe when it comes to my fetus, but even the self-gratifying rush that comes from doing the best I can to be an awesome pregnant chick did nothing to help me feel better last night.
What did make me feel better was watching Doc act like a complete goof. The first thing he did was fart, loudly. Then, because he always surprises himself when that happens, he craned his neck around so that he could smell his own butt. When I asked him what in the blue heck he was doing, he smiled at me and wagged his tail. Whatever makes him happy, I guess.
The second thing he did was whine and pace in front of the sliding glass door because, wait for it, there were leaves blowing by. Menacing leaves, that obviously meant the two of us no good at all, and the only thing for it was to stand guard at the door to ensure those suckers didn’t come charging in, crumbling all over the place. It’s a good thing he was there.
Truthfully, I’m finding myself in the very familiar situation of not knowing where to set boundaries for myself with work. There’s always something I could be doing, but doesn’t mean it’s healthy for me, or for Squishy, to work constantly. Sure, my kitchen is immaculate, the laundry is folded, dinner is set for tomorrow, and I’ve written five posts, but I’m also exhausted and can barely muster up the energy to shower and then succumb to the luscious pillows on my bed.
I determined last night that I had better get my act together and start parceling out time to relax, or I’ll be in very sorry shape once this baby’s done cooking. If I refuse to give myself time and space to do something relaxing now, what will become of me when I have four times as much laundry to do and a child I have to feed with my boobs?
A big soggy mess, that’s what will become of me. A big, soggy, miserable mess who will find it very hard to distill pleasure and enjoyment from my new little family, and will instead just be resentful and bitter.
That being said…Does anyone know of a way to get chores to do themselves?